Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2)

by Lyon, Raquel

  An uncomfortable silence grew, as Matt’s eyes flicked from me to Cora and back again. “So you two are … um …”

  “Together? Yes,” I said.

  His head bobbed as the confirmation registered.

  Cora picked up her purse from the edge of the pool table. “Excuse me. I need to powder my nose.”

  She’d have been better off holding it, if the ladies’ smelled anything like the men’s. The stink of stale piss was usually only endured by patrons wishing to powder their nose from the inside.

  “She scrubs up well. I almost didn’t recognise her,” Matt said, watching her head bob down the corridor.

  Without warning, a huge meat hook of a hand slammed onto my shoulder. “Well look who decided to show his face. Either you have a death wish or you’re here to return my cash.”

  Fuck. In my hurry to show Cora my idea of a good time, the consequences of returning to the club hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  Steeling myself, I turned to face the tattooed hulk who’d spoken. “Haven’t you already taken it in kind from my brother?”

  His top lip curled. “Sloppy job that. They should have finished him off.” A finger jabbed into my chest. “Twenty-four hours, three grand, right here, or that piece of ass,” he cocked a chin towards Cora entering the bathroom, “gets to visit your grave instead of the piss pot.”

  Matt leaned back, bracing himself against the pool table, totally unfazed. “That sounds suspiciously like a death threat to me, mate.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “It’s against the law. Couple the threat with a GBH and you’re looking at ten to life, if memory serves.” He held eye contact and took a slug of his beer.

  “Dumbass cops don’t give a shit what goes down here.”

  “There’s a badge in my pocket just itching to test that theory, so I suggest you leave my friend here alone, and crawl back into your den, or I’ll know where to send the boys.”

  Tattooed Guy assessed Matt and turned to me snarling. “Fuck this bullshit. Your poxy pot and piss-ant brother ain’t worth the hassle.”

  I let go of my breath, as he knocked my shoulder on his way past, and I watched him disappear down the same corridor as Cora had.

  Matt pushed back to standing. “You never told me your brother had taken a beating. When was that?”

  “Um … a week last Tuesday.”

  “Why didn’t you report it?”

  “He’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Want me to ask around? Add it to our list of enquiries?”

  “Nah. That’s okay, dude. It’s better left.”

  “Fair enough.” Matt cocked his head in the direction Tattooed Guy had gone. “You owe that scumbag money?”

  “No. I won it fair and square.”

  “Ah, an unlucky victim of the back room. You lose even when you win.”

  “You know what goes down here?”

  “Sure. This club’s been on our radar for months, but we’re more interested in the drugs racket that your mate and his gang are running. We got a tip-off a while ago about it. I came here tonight to poke around a bit, check word hasn’t got out of what’s coming.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let’s just say, if all goes to plan, they won’t be throwing their weight around for much longer.” He placed his bottle on the wall ledge. “Take my advice and stay away from this place for a while.”

  Cora returned to my side. “And why would you be advising that, Matthew?”

  “Health hazard,” he improvised. “Too much time here, not good for the lungs, you know.”

  She nodded. “I do feel a little woozy.”

  I took that as my cue, and smacked her ass playfully. “Better get you home to bed, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Following Matt’s advice, I played it safe and stayed away from the club. Life settled into a pleasant routine, and with my leaflets generating a few more phone calls, I was kept busy most days. Cora stuck to her daily activities, and when I got the chance, between jobs, I joined her on her daily run—more for peace of mind than fitness. Letting her out of my sight became harder every day. It often turned into a race which I even let her win, occasionally. Our evenings were spent slobbing on the sofa; with me channel hopping the TV and Cora with her head nestled on my lap and her nose stuck in her latest literary find. Life was good.

  I saw Kendrick only a handful of times. College term was over, and even though I had no idea how he was spending his days, he ensured me he was keeping out of trouble, and took pleasure in telling me, more than once, that being with Cora was turning me into an old man who should butt out of his business. Unless I caught wind of his desire to pursue his interest in the street racing scene, that was precisely what I intended to do.

  My only worry was Pappa. He’d made it out into the garden, one cloudy day, to deadhead a few flowers, but inside the house, a layer of dust was creeping over the surfaces, and because it appeared not to bother him, it bothered me. A lot.

  Everything changed when Nessie finally made an appearance.

  I heard her before I saw her. The argument with her mother was louder than the electric saw I was using to cut the wood for the pergola. I downed tools and listened, undecided if I should intrude on their mother daughter reunion. Considering the decibels emitting from the kitchen, it wasn’t a happy one, and if I thought Kendrick had given me an ear bashing over our relationship, it was nothing compared to the one Cora was receiving.

  “It’s embarrassing, Mum. It’s bad enough that you’ve shacked up with the gardener, but he’s young enough to be my brother. How would you feel if I started seeing one of Dad’s friends?”

  “That’s hardly the same thing, Vanessa. And we’re not … shacking up.”

  “You could have fooled me. He’s here more than I am.”

  That part was true, even if the shacking up wasn’t. I flicked the switch on the extension lead and stepped over it onto the path. My feet hit the steps two at a time, and I stopped short of the door with my fingers lingering over the handle, half of me needing to sick up for my woman, the other half imagining Nessie’s nails scraping down my cheek.

  “Speaking of which, I don’t appreciate your disappearing without a word,” Cora said.

  “I needed space.”

  “You may be eighteen, but I still deserved to know where you were.”

  “I was angry.”

  “Clearly, your break doesn’t seem to have changed that fact.”

  “What did you expect? You’ve made us the laughing stock of the neighbourhood.”

  “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. If people were talking, I would know.”

  If people weren’t already talking, they would be soon. There was probably already a bunch of eager eavesdroppers gathering on the front street, popcorn at the ready.

  “No, you wouldn’t. You live in your own little bubble of perfection. Life exists outside of there, you know.”

  “I realise that, but I’m happy with my bubble, and like it or not, Johnny is part of it now. Can’t you two just get along, to please me?”

  “Yeah, because that’s what I live for.”

  Cora shouldn’t be spoken to like that; she deserved more respect. Nessie was being a brat. Fuck it. I had to face her sooner or later. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. “Hello, Nessie. It’s nice to see you home.”

  “Home? Home?” She whirled around and slammed her hand on the kitchen table. “This is not your home. This is my home. Don’t think for one minute you’re wheedling your money-grabbing self into this house.”

  I held up my hands, readying to defend from the nails. “It’s not like that.”

  “Okay then. How is it? Tell me. I’m all ears.”

  “I can’t explain. Your mother and I … well … none of it was planned. It just happened.”

  “Someone like you wanting someone like her doesn’t just happen. There’s always a motive, and the only one I can come up with is mo
ney.”

  Realising Nessie’s aggression only came from her mouth, my hands slowly lowered. “Other than being paid for the work I do, your mother’s money has never entered my mind.”

  “Sure, it has. I’ve heard the rumours.”

  “What rumours?”

  “You’re a gambler.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re trouble.”

  “Since when did enjoying a game of cards make me trouble?”

  “Since you got your brother beaten up.”

  “Says who?”

  Cora laid a hand on her daughters arm. “Vanessa, what are you saying?”

  “Mum, you have to get rid of him. He’s bad news.”

  Where did Nessie get off, lumping me in with the troublemakers in town? I had no desire to cause Cora any more stress, but I had to defend myself. “You’ve got it all wrong. I haven’t done anything.” I hoped.

  “Oh, really. That’s not what I heard.”

  “Yeah? What exactly have you heard?”

  “Do I have to spell it out?”

  “Actually … yes.”

  “Fine. Jess’s friend, Lisa, is friends with another girl called Yvonne, and her boyfriend, Rhys, hangs around the racing scene with Barbie. Apparently, Barbie doesn’t like your brother too much, since he started spending time with his girl.”

  Geez, did she ever take a breath? “Wait. Barbie’s a guy?”

  “Of course, Barbie’s a guy. Are you not listening? Chris Barber, he’s called. Anyway, Barbie thinks Molly is getting too cosy with Rick. That’s your brother, right?”

  Where the hell was she going with this? “Um, yeah.”

  “Well Lisa thinks Molly just felt sorry for Rick when he got a pasting on account of your stirring up shit with the Schofield brothers.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Don’t play the innocent. Everyone knows the Schofield brothers, even me.”

  “I’ve got to say you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “I can’t see how. You were the one fleecing them at poker.” She paused with her head cocked to one side and her lips pursed, as I mentally pictured the men around the card table and tried to deduce which of them could be related. “Two guys, loads of tattoos, one of them a big snake. Remember now?” Her eyebrows rose and stayed there.

  “Ah.”

  “Johnny? Is this true?” Cora asked.

  “It was no big deal. Two small games for some extra cash. I knew when to get out. Honestly, I haven’t been back since.” I cupped Cora’s shoulders in my hands. “Baby, this has nothing to do with us. Why are you listening to idle gossip?”

  Little crinkles marred the bridge of Cora’s nose. “I saw a man of that description, when we went to your club.”

  Nessie gasped. “You took my mother to the Pocket Scratcher?”

  “So what?”

  “Everyone knows what goes on in that dive. I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you scored her a hit and you both got high together.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” I regretted the words as soon as I spoke them. Nessie was determined to paint me as the villain, and I was playing right into her hands. Cora pulled away from me and stood staring at her fingers stroking over the counter top. “Cora, look at me.”

  Her fingers changed rhythm and began tapping a new pattern into the work surface. “Go home, Johnny.”

  Where did that come from? “I’m sorry?”

  “I need to think.”

  “What about?”

  “Us. Gambling is one thing, but violence and drugs … I had no idea you were associated with any of that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Go. Please.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Vanessa’s right. We were naïve to think this would work. I can’t be with another man hiding secrets.”

  “I don’t have secrets. Sure I’ve got into a few fights. Who hasn’t? And I admit I’ve tried weed, once, about five years ago, but I’m nothing like Nessie is trying to make me out to be. Ask me anything. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  Nessie stepped so close to me I could feel her anger radiating from her body. “Everything she wants to hear, you mean.”

  “I have never lied to your mother. I made a promise to her that I never would, and I’ve kept that promise. Cora …”

  “She asked you to go. What are you still doing here?” Nessie smiled smugly.

  “Get out of my face, Nessie. You’ve done enough damage. Cora, please …”

  Cora’s head was shaking. “Don’t you see? You lied to me by omission.”

  “There’s a bunch of stuff you don’t know about me yet. Neither of us came with a freaking manual.”

  “If this conversation is a sample page, I don’t want to read anymore. We were basing a relationship on physical feelings, chasing a dream. It’s a fantasy to think otherwise.”

  “It isn’t a dream; it’s real. I felt it; you felt it. No one knows everything about each other when they first start out, but we’ll learn.”

  “No. I don’t think I want to. Everything’s against us, there’s so much animosity, and now this. I can’t do it.”

  “I know it’s hard, but I promise I’m not the bad guy in this, and everyone will come to accept us, eventually. You have to keep fighting, Cora. Don’t give up on me, please.”

  “My head is all jumbled up. I need to be alone, Johnny.”

  I moved to stand behind her and spoke into her hair. “You don’t mean that.”

  Her body stiffened. “Please Johnny.”

  It was as if a screen had been drawn between us, locking me out, and keeping me out until she said the word. I breathed in the unmistakable aroma of the scent I’d become so used to being around, wondering if it would be the last time I ever smelt it. Cora was angry, confused. She didn’t know what she was saying. Sure, she wanted me gone, now, but tomorrow she would realise how stupid she was being. “Fine,” I said. “If it’s what you want, I’ll leave, as long as you understand it’s not what I want, and I’ll be back. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll be here. I haven’t given up on us, even if you have.”

  Nessie grabbed my arm and spun me towards the door. “I guess that’s you done then. You’ll see this is the right thing to do.” She opened the door and pushed me through it. “Bye now.”

  I stared at the combination of frosted glass and UPVC, unable to digest what had just taken place. I’d gone up against a slip of a girl, and lost. I should have known better than to try to come between mother and daughter, but I refused to believe I’d lost Cora. It wasn’t possible. Relationships sucked.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With an anvil tied to my heart, I gathered up my tools, shoved them into my holdall, and took a farewell look at the pergola. I hated to leave a job unfinished; this one more than any. I’d poured my heart and soul into the design and construction, needing to get it absolutely right for the woman I loved—every curve, every nail placed with precision, to ensure the finished result would be as perfect as she was.

  “I haven’t finished with you,” I said to the structure, before hitching my bag onto my shoulder and leaving it behind.

  At home, the house was quiet, too quiet.

  “Pappa. Paps!” The only answer I received was a bark from Smokey. At least someone was still speaking to me. The barking continued, but Smokey didn’t appear. It was coming from upstairs. I guessed the faithful hound was accompanying Pappa on his afternoon nap, and if he didn’t zip it soon, he’d wake Pappa up, and then somehow it would become my fault that Paps was cranky for the rest of the day.

  I dumped my bag on the hallway floor, kicked off my shoes, and climbed the stairs. “Smokey, quiet, boy. Shh. Give the old man some peace.”

  Smokey’s head turned as I pushed open the door.

  “Come on, boy. Out of there,” I shouted in a husky whisper, cocking my head for him to follow me.

  He whimpered and laid his chin o
n the edge of the bed, with his big, black eyes focused on Pappa’s face.

  “I said, come on.” I pursed my lips and tried to squeeze a silent whistle from them, but Smokey was playing at being deaf. Sighing, I walked over and tugged on his collar, but it was as if he were stuck to the floor. Damn, he was being a stubborn bastard. “All right then, stay, but quit with the noise,” I said through gritted teeth.

  I’d had a shitty afternoon, and I didn’t have any fight left in me to waste on stupid doggy games. All I wanted to do was kick back a bucket load of beers and pass out.

  As soon as I tried to leave, the barking started up again.

  I shot back to Smokey’s side. “What the fuck is up with you, today?” His behaviour was driving me nuts.

  Smokey stood and nudged Pappa’s hand.

  “What is it, boy?”

  I studied Pappa, his pale face looking even more washed-out against the white of the sheets. His mouth hung open but no snoring could be heard. Smokey licked Pappa’s hand and looked at me.

  A sudden coldness, shivered through me, and my body couldn’t move. My eyes scanned from Pappa’s face to his chest, praying I’d see even the slightest of rise and falls. As the seconds ticked by, I stared, not breathing, but saw nothing.

  No. Please, God, no. Not this. Not now. Not today. I wasn’t ready. Pappa wasn’t ready. He had to be fine. When I’d left him this morning, we’d discussed my room. He’d been happy to allow me to redecorate, even offered to help. He couldn’t be …

  Smokey let out a small whine and nudged Pappa’s hand again, stirring me from my stupor. I reached for Pappa’s wrist, hoping to find a beat under his tissue paper skin, but it was cold and still.

  My hand shot to my forehead. Think, Johnny, think. I couldn’t think. An incessant pounding had invaded my skull and wiped out any remaining brainpower. Then without consciously doing so, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialled the emergency services.

  “I think my grandfather is dead.”

  ***

  In a matter of minutes, someone had squeezed out every last bit of joy from my heart, taken the rock that remained, and smashed it with a sledgehammer. I backed against the wall, slid down it, and slumped on the floor, cradling my head in my hands. Time slowed and became meaningless. Nothing mattered anymore.